To Another President

blast thou forgotten, thou more vile
Than he who clung to Helen's isle
Rather than fall among the brave!
Hast thou forgotten so thy flight,
When sparing Philip's peaceful might
Disdain'd to hurl thee to thy grave?
Forgotten the chain'd eagle, borne
Shaken by ridicule and scorn
Up Boulogne's proud columnar hill?
Twice traitor, ere a nation's trust
Rais'd thee a third time from the dust
For what? . . to be a traitor still.
The hands that thrust thy uncle down,
And threw into his face his crown,
Contemptuous, were held forth to thee;
Not for thy valour or thy worth,
Believe me, were those hands held forth,
No, but from joy that thou wert free.
O brow of brass! O heart of stone!
Dost thou of Europe's sons alone
Repel the exile from thy shore,
Whom Plague's implacable disease,
Whom murderous men, tempestuous seas,
Had spared, whose wrongs far worlds deplore.
Him when the sons of Ismael saw,
The man who gave free men the law,
They stopt the camel-train to gaze;
For in the desert they had heard
The miracles of Kossuth's Word,
The myriad voices of his praise.
Him, ever mindful of her trust,
America, the firm, the just,
Beneath her salutary star
Invokes, and bears across the main,
Until his native land again
Avenges an unrighteous war.
England! I glory that mine eyes
First open'd on thy sterner skies,
Where the most valiant of mankind
Bear gentlest hearts; I glory most
At the proud welcome on thy coast
Of him, the brave, the pure, the wise.
My England, look across the Strait!
Behold the chief whom thousands hate,
But fear to touch; because the Tzar
Nods at him from his saddle-bow.
And says, ' ' If any strike a blow
Against my slave, I rush to war A
Safe art thou, Louis! . . for a time;
But tremble . . never yet was crime,
Beyond one little space, secure.
The coward and the brave alike
Can wait and watch, can rush and strike. . .
Which marks thee? one of them, be sure.
Some men love fame, despising power,
Well shelter'd from its sultry hour,
And some love power, despising fame;
Among the crowd of these art thou,
And soon shalt reach it . . but below
A Jellachich's and Gorgey's name.